


Interlaced

by TRCelyne



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Validar has a twin, and set during various times, basically you'll have robin's story but also validar's story at the same time, chapters will be of various lengths, robin and aversa are cousins, romeo and juliety as in chrom and robin are not allowed to be in love, tied bloodlines au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-02-10 07:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18655345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRCelyne/pseuds/TRCelyne
Summary: Robin lifted her head and proudly recited the words she now knew by heart “The Fell Bloodline shall be passed down to a single heir only. The Fell Bloodline and The Exalt Bloodline shall never mix.”Things would have been easier if she had stuck to the Laws. If she had fallen in love with someone else, if she had been more careful, if she had had an ounce of common sense, it would have never happened. Rules were made for a reason, they were there to keep everyone safe from harm, from the potential threat that she was.And somehow, she managed to break not one, but the two Laws.





	1. Prologue - The Laws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evaceratops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaceratops/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Eva! I admit it, this was not originally going to be your present, but hey, you helped me so much with this that the only thing I can do is dedicate it to you.
> 
> Here's a brand new work, full of angst and love, we're going on one hell of a long ride guys! You might get lost while reading this, so please keep in mind that the chapters are in a non-linear narrative, and that I might jump back and forth in time bewteen chapters. Each chapter will be named after a specific character to focus on their point of view.  
> Please leave comments if you're interested in this!

“And thus, Grima was sealed with the help of the Exalted Falchion, carried by the first hero king.”  
Robin’s eyes shone and she crossed her arms on the wooden table, resting her chin on them “What happened afterwards?”  
Morgana smiled gently and closed her book “Well, Grima was vanquished but did not disappear. In order to come back, they need a vessel, who bears the Mark.”  
The child pointed at the back of her right hand “Like mine?”  
The woman nodded “Indeed. And to make sure Grima would be sealed again if they were to reappear, their vessel decided to remain by the Exalt’s side. And since then, the Fell Bloodline and the Exalted Bloodline have lived in peace, side by side.”  
“What happened to the sword?”  
“The Exalt has it.”  
“Is it why I am scared of the sword that Chrom’s dad has?”  
The woman leaned across the table and brushed her daughter’s bangs out of her eyes “Yes. Your blood reacts to Falchion, and so does the blood of your cousin, your aunt and your dad.” Her smile faltered “Do you remember the two Laws of the Tied Bloodlines?”  
Robin lifted her head and proudly recited the words she now knew by heart “The Fell Bloodline shall be passed down to a single heir only. The Fell Bloodline and The Exalt Bloodline shall never mix.”

Things would have been easier if she had stuck to the Laws. If she had fallen in love with someone else, if she had been more careful, if she had had an ounce of common sense, it would have never happened. Rules were made for a reason, they were there to keep everyone safe from harm, from the potential threat that she was.

And somehow, she managed to break not one, but the two Laws.


	2. The Chosen (1)

Chrom was hidden behind a pillar, carefully observing the garden, checking for any trace of his pursuer. It was pretty clever of him to think about checking his back…

He turned around and squeaked in surprise “Oh my gods, Robin! You scared the life out of me!”

…but he always forgot about the front.

Robin put her hands behind her back and smiled brightly “Gotcha!”  
“No, you haven’t yet!”

Chrom quickly jumped out of her way and started running towards the garden, an amused laugh escaping his throat. She liked how his laugh sounded. It was nice. Robin ran after her friend, but had troubles catching up with him: he was too fast and had stamina – an obvious result of his daily swordplay training – whereas Robin often preferred the calmness of the castle’s library. He often slowed down to let her catch up with him, then picked up speed again every time she was too close. When they passed by Frederick – who was looking after Lissa, clumsily scampering around the garden the way toddlers did – the squire advised them to watch their steps, for he had not finished removing all the pebbles from the paths yet. The children ignored him, too caught in their shenanigans to pay attention to his warnings. It was only a matter of seconds before her aunt and cousin came into view, casually walking around the garden. Chrom ran around them, and wrapped his tiny arms around Aversa’s waist from behind, before popping his head by her side.

“I’ve got Aversa! You can’t attack me now!” He bragged.  
Robin pouted “Chrom! Hostages don’t count! Leave Avie alone!”  
“So much energy!” Linna commented with a giggle “Just watching you run around exhausts me. Oh, by the way Robin, your mother was looking for you earlier, you should go find her in the library.”  
“Noooo~, right now?” The little girl whined.  
Aversa smiled and patted Chrom’s head “The fastest you’re done, the fastest you can play together again.”

\--

She liked when her mother taught her things. But she didn’t like when her mother wanted to teach her things when she was playing with Chrom. Because it literally meant that she had to choose between her two favourite people in the world, and she didn’t want to choose between her two favourite people in the world.

Chrom always accompanied her whenever she was needed somewhere. “So they could make the most of their time together”, to quote his words. Aversa often laughed at how inseparable they were, and so did her aunt.  
Her father, however, was not very pleased with her friendship with the Exalted Prince.

Well, it wasn’t like he enjoyed anything related to the Exalted Bloodline anyway.

\--

Robin stopped right in her tracks when she recognised the familiar voice from the corridor. Chrom bumped into her and took a step back in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

She hushed him with a move of the hand and walked closer to the door that had been left ajar. Both children peeked in, Chrom a bit confused, Robin already knowing what to expect.

Aversa was standing by the piano of Emmeryn’s suite, singing aloud as Chrom’s sister played a light tune with a smile on her lips. She didn’t often catch her cousin singing, so she was happy that, for once, she got to hear her voice. The fact that Emmeryn accompanied her was probably the reason why she sang so wholeheartedly. The two weren’t friends for nothing.

At some point, the blond girl missed a note and Aversa chuckled in amusement. They looked at each other, and both of them burst into laughter, basking in the sunlight coming from the balcony’s open window. Chrom, who had been leaning over Robin to observe the other two, slipped and both of them fell inside the room in a duet of yelps. There was a second of silence, until the four of them shared a laugh.

Those were the blessed days of her childhood.

Her last days as an innocent seven years old.


	3. The Betrayed (1)

The birth of a new member of the Fell Bloodline had always been quite an event. Less than the birth of an Exalt, obviously, which always led to celebrations in the entire halidom, but it always caused quite the commotion within the castle for a few days. He had seen Lady Fansyth’s belly grow bigger and bigger with the weeks, and given how the maids were running about in the corridors, it was probably time for her baby to come out. Lady Tiki and Nowi had arrived a few days prior already, although he never understood why they seemed to be in a perpetual state of concern. Even his own mother, the ever-smiling Exalt, had had an unusual frown on her face for some time already.

Martheleus shook his head and brought his focus back on the wooden dummy facing him. It wasn’t like it was important to him, anyway. He had not planned on befriending the Fell child. They were eight years apart, by the time they would be old enough to play, he would have already grown up. There was no point in trying to grow close, especially since the Laws insisted on the fact the bloodlines shouldn’t mix. He would be polite with them, but there was no absolute necessity to befriend them in the first place. After all, all they had to do was to remain geographically close to each other, so why bother trying to grow close? He flexed his legs, then jumped on his training dummy, striking it only once. He looked back at the slash he had diagonally made across its chest with a satisfied smirk. The regular clapping of his combat instructor’s hands drew his attention to the man, who smiled in contentment before putting his arms behind his back.

“Your progress is impressive, Milord.” He said with a nod.  
Martheleus relaxed and stood up, wiping his forehead with the heel of his palm “Thanks, Sir.”  
“If you keep on improving like this, I am fairly sure you will soon receive Naga’s Light and be able to wield Falchion.”  
The boy stuck the tip of his training sword in the dirt and put his hands on the top of the pommel “Even if I were to be able to, would Mother give me the sword?”  
“Well, I cannot speak in her name, Milord. You will have to ask her yourself.”

More maids ran across the courtyard, cutting their conversation. Sir Lund asked what was the source of the commotion, and as expected, Lady Fansyth from the Fell Bloodline’s labour had started, and the child would most likely be born before the following day. He offered his help, which they politely declined; he however did not take no as an answer and took the large bucket of hot water one had been carrying with difficulty and walked away without paying attention to her complaint. The boy grunted with a frown. His own retainer, walking out on him for the Fell baby? He picked his sword again and, spurred by his sudden outburst of utter annoyance, lodged it in the middle of the dummy’s wooden chest.

\--

He had not managed to see his mother that afternoon. She had dropped by during lunch, kissed his forehead tenderly, and walked out as quickly as she had come, her long blue hair floating along her back like an echo of each move she made. He liked his mother’s hair. It was beautiful. It meant she was important, special. But above all, what proved how great she was was the Brand of the Exalt she proudly bore on her skin, between the shoulder blades. She always tied her hair in intricate braids and buns combined with dresses with low-cut backs during important events - such as Flaementide or royal balls - so everyone could see it and be reminded of her heritage. He, himself, felt proud of having the said Mark on the back of his left hand. His bloodline had been chosen by the Divine Dragon Naga centuries before to reign and rule over the Halidom of Ylisse. It was an honour bestowed upon him. He would be called Crown Prince only once he would be deemed worthy of Falchion, but it was only a matter of time. He was the only heir, anyway.

He wondered if his own birth had caused such a ruckus, eight years before. Probably. But technically, the Fell Bloodline had no specific rank among the court. They were there, long lost Plegians in the Ylissean capital, forever bound to be by the Exalts’ side. They had no title, no land to rule over, and yet they were there, in the shadows of the castle’s walls and in the whispers of the throne room. They had grown to be accepted without doubt among the court.  
Was he the only one who remembered that these people were actually Plegian? Had his father died in vain so many years before?

\--

He spent the afternoon in the library, safe from the snow storm that was raging outside, sitting on the broad window sill, a fur blanket on his legs and an open book on his lap, his history of magic long forgotten in favour of the white flakes whirling on the other side of the widow. Maybe he would be allowed to go play in the garden the following day, once the weather would have calmed down. He didn’t like being locked in the castle, and especially the library; it was however the only place where he found some quietness that day, far from everyone’s hurried steps.

Martheleus sighed. He’d rather go there and see for himself, then. He didn’t like it when he didn’t know what was happening. Well, he knew what was happening, but at least if he saw the baby with his own two eyes, at least he’d understand what that fuss was all about. He closed his book and set it aside, before jumping down from the window. He arranged his cape around his shoulders, making sure the fur was covering his neck correctly, and left the room.

By the time he reached Lady Fansyth’s quarters, he had spotted servants carrying brand new bedsheets, but also a few of them carrying a cradle. That was odd. It wasn’t like the pregnancy had been unexpected. And knowing his mother, the preparations for the birth had probably been done at least a few weeks before.  
He didn’t want to make assumptions, but seeing the engraved Brand of the Exalt on the cradle’s white birch led him to two conclusions: first, there was something wrong with the cradle they had originally built for the child. And secondly, that one was probably his own cradle. Well, it wasn’t like he had been sleeping in it since his first or second birthday, but still. He didn’t like it.

As expected, there was quite the commotion in front of the door, although it seemed to be more about gossiping rather than doing actual work. Martheleus frowned and cleared his throat, the sound effectively cutting all ongoing chatter. The servants scattered in a chorus of “pardon us, Milord”s and useless bows. He put his hands behind his back and tilted his head up.

“I wish to see Lady Fansyth.” He declared.  
“Well… Milord” one of them replied “Milady is really tired right now, and should rest.”  
“I won’t be long.” He insisted “I assume my mother is with her at this very moment?”  
“She is, Milord.”  
“Well then.” He concluded, ignoring the servant and pushing the door open.

His mother was facing the large open window, and turned around as soon as he walked in. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Martheleus? What are you doing here? This is merely a place for children.” She said.  
He gave her a lopsided grin “What? I just came to say hello to the baby.”  
The Exalt frowned faintly at him, then gave up with a sigh “One day, you’ll have to learn that your rank will not excuse you from doing whatever you want.”  
“Elynn, come on, don’t be so harsh on him. He’s just curious!”

Both of them turned towards the voice. Lady Fansyth’s husband had opened the curtain that separated her bed from the rest of the room – a makeshift installation to give her some privacy – revealing the woman beaming but obviously exhausted, sitting up in her bed. She invited him closer with a move of the hand.

“Come closer, Martheleus.”

He really didn’t like when she called him by his name only. It wasn’t because she was friends with his mother that she had the right to be as informal with him. He walked closer nonetheless. His cradle had been installed next to the one that had been prepared for the baby. He waited for Lady Fansyth to gesture at the beds, allowing him to come closer.

As he approached, everything started to make sense. The commotion, the two cradles, the whispers among the servants. It all made sense now he was leaning over the beds. Lady Fansyth smiled gently, as if she hadn’t realised the gravity of her mistake.

“Let me present you my children, Linna and Validar.”

\--

Twins.

Lady Fansyth had given birth to twins. Well, it wasn’t like she had done it on purpose, obviously, he wasn’t that ignorant. However, it was against the Laws, and that couldn’t be allowed.

His mother took several days to settle a thing that he would have done right on the spot, had he been able to. At least one of them had to be gone. If she didn’t want to choose, then they’d kill the two. It was cruel, but for the safety of the halidom, nay, for the safety of the world, it had to be done.

Unlike he had thought, Lady Fansyth seemed to be very aware of that.

The woman, now rested enough to be able to move, was sitting in one of the armchairs of Exalt Elynn’s suite. His mother was pacing up and down in the room in silence, chewing on her lower lip and her brows twisted in a concerned frown. They both knew what had to be done, and yet none of them dared to pronounce the words. Martheleus sighed and crossed his arms, tapping the tip of his foot on the carpet.

“Pardon me for interrupting your lively chat” he deadpanned “But maybe it’s time to stop being in denial. One of the Laws has been broken. There’s only one way to rectify this mistake.”

Lady Fansyth froze at the last sentence, and his mother glared at him.

“You’re a child, Martheleus, you don’t understand the weight of your words, and I highly recommend you to watch your mouth from now on.”  
He gestured at some random point of the room with a wide move of the arm “I’m old enough to understand that Ylisse’s safety is at stake if there are two vessels for Grima!”  
“And I’m telling you that nothing has happened for centuries, and I don’t see why now would be different.” His mother snarled.  
“We can never be sure! Better get rid of one now while they’re newborns rather than kill a child or an adult. Validar’s Mark is exactly the same as Lady Fansyth’s, but Linna’s is different and not even on her right hand! See? It’s not that hard to do!”

The echo on the walls hurt him more than the slap itself. Martheleus glared back at his mother, not giving her the satisfaction of making him shut up by holding her gaze and resisting the urge to rub his stinging left cheek.

“You know I’m right, Mother.” He said.  
“And you have to learn that all lives have the same value.”

Well, that tone indicated that he had gone too far. If the slap hadn’t been that much of a deal, her icy tone had always been enough to make him shiver in fear. He did not reply, nor did he protest when she grabbed him by the shoulder and led him to the door. When she opened it, the knight who had been guarding it turned around.

“Sir Lund, could you please take my son to a stroll around the capital? He needs some fresh air.”  
The man nodded “Of course, Milady.”

And upon these words, she let go of him and closed the door shut behind her. He definitely heard Lady Fansyth’s sniffles when she did so.

His mother was about to do a big mistake, and she knew it. And he was convinced that her inability to dirty her hands with the blood of a baby for the sake of her people would someday, somehow, get back at them.


	4. The Sun (1)

It had been a long but enriching day. She had visited several villages in the name of her father and had been treated seriously despite her young age; her suggestions taken into account when it came to improving and building new facilities in order to help their growth. She had even suggested lowering a tax to increase the commercial exchanges with the neighbouring domain. She had also proved herself to be a good mage by healing three men who had been attacked a few days before. She had heard about the bandits roaming the area, and although she could not do anything about it herself, she promised to have the matter taken care of.

 

Lissandra felt herself lulled by her white horse’s walk, her blond ringlets bumping her neck every now and then. She was tired, but she didn’t admit it out loud, although she was glad for not having to walk all the way back to her father’s castle. She didn’t know if the knight at her right had not noticed, or if he was just pretending. Whichever it was, she was grateful he kept silent, letting the noises of the forest surround her instead and allowing her to daydream.

 

When the man stopped his horse, Lissandra instinctively followed. Ahead of them, on the middle of the dirt path, was a girl standing. She was probably not older than ten or eleven. Her skin was darker than hers, her hair white and falling in random curls on her cheeks and neck. She was wearing an old linen tunic with a belt and boots, but what puzzled the young lady was the big dark coat with purple eyes she had on her shoulders. It looked way too big for her, for she had rolled the sleeves as high as possible and made a big knot with the length of fabric on her back so it wouldn’t hang down on the ground too much, although it lost its purpose of sheltering her body from the cold. She smiled at them.

 

“I advise you to not go further.” She said with an accent Lissandra could not quite place “There are bandits ahead, they’ve heard about your visit and are planning to attack you in the next clearing.”

“Well, thank you.” The knight replied, although obviously suspicious “But pray tell, miss, why would we believe some random Plegian child? What proves that you are not with them, and that you’re not trying to lure us into some kind of trap?”

 

Ah, so that was where her accent came from.

 

The girl shrugged “Nothing proves it, indeed. Only my good faith.”

Lissandra bowed her head to her with a smile “Thank you for warning us, miss.”

“I advise you to follow the river below” She said, pointing at the stream in the dell further down “They will be waiting there too, but from what I’ve seen, there will be only a quarter of their group. You will be outnumbered either way, but if you wish to keep going, this is my suggestion. The ideal would be hiding in the trees, for if they don’t see you coming after a while, they’re probably going to go look for you. Then once they’ve passed by, you can run back to your castle.” She crossed her arms, tapping her chin with a pensive pout, mostly mumbling to herself “But with the horses, that might be complicated…”

“Well then, we’ll be on our way.” The knight cut her.

She gasped “Oh, of course.” She stepped aside, not insisting further “I wish you the best of luck, Sir, Milady.”

 

The man spurred his horse and started walking again. Lissandra followed him, although she couldn’t help but look at the girl as they passed by her. She smiled brightly at her and gave her a polite nod. She was strange. Maybe it was her, but she didn’t find her that suspicious, unlike her vassal. Perhaps she had genuinely wanted to warn them. She heard the man mutter something about hiding in the trees being the weirdest idea he had ever heard.

 

They kept going for a few minutes, until the clearing she had been talking about came in sight in the far distance. The knight stopped her with a move of the hand. There were men waiting there, but fortunately they had not seen them yet.

 

“Let’s follow the river.” He said.

 

Lissandra nodded, and he led the way downwards. She really didn’t like how she felt like she was going to fall because of her horse’s unsure steps, and silently prayed to Naga that they wouldn’t fall. Anxiety started to course through her veins. They were going to be alright. They were going to be alright. She kept chanting this sentence on loop in her head in hope it would somewhat be true. When they reached the banks of the river, she allowed herself to breathe a bit.

 

“What should we do, now?” She asked “The girl said that there were going to be bandits on this side as well.”

“I’ll go first and check. You stay-“

 

The arrow that stuck itself just at her horse’s feet scared the animal, which reared up with a loud neigh. The sudden jerking made Lissandra lose her balance, and she fell to the ground with a cry. The animal ran away, and the man had troubles keeping his own mount under control. She couldn’t see them, but she definitely heard the enemies approaching.

 

“Run!” The knight yelled.

 

She scrambled to her feet and started running along the river bank, just as other arrows were shot at them. The uneven ground beneath her feet did not help her, nor did her outfit, even if the skirt of her dress was wide. But gods it wasn’t convenient _at all_. She did not dare to look back, for she had all her focus on _not falling_ , on not losing balance between the rocky path and her burning lungs. She had no stamina whatsoever. It would only be a matter of time before they caught her. Oh gods. Oh, _gods_. Tears blurred her vision and she cursed herself for crying in such a situation. If she could at least find her horse again. She could ride back to the nearest village and ask for help, right? Right? Or maybe she could-

 

Something pulled on her right wrist and she found herself falling into a bush. She struggled and tried to scream, but a hand was slapped on her mouth from behind.

 

“Don’t shout! It’s me!” Someone whisper-yelled.

 

Lissandra slowly turned her head to the side, and chocolate eyes found her jade ones. The Plegian girl. She was there. More tears filled her eyes, in fear and relief. When she made sure she had recognised her, the girl let her go and peeked outside the bush.

 

“We should go before they come all the way here.” She said.

 

Lissandra did not find the strength to answer, and simply settled for following her when she pulled her out of the bush and towards the nearest tree, which had a recess. When she tried to crouch and hide there, the girl pulled on her arm and pointed at the foliage with her free hand.

 

“The first thing they’re going to check is that recess. We’re gonna hide up there.”

 

She knelt at her feet and joined her hands to give her a leg up. Lissandra looked at her, then at the branches. Would she even have the strength to do that? She had no ounce of strength. She would probably slip and fall. However, when the Plegian urged her on, she stopped hesitating and put her foot on her hands. She caught the closest branch she could reach, and tried to lift herself up. She felt her legs being pushed up, allowing her to climb further in the tree. The girl joined her a couple of seconds later, and pressed her against the tree trunk. The foliage was thick, and hid them well; however it was also true the other way around, so there was no way for them to see what was happening. And it was better like that.

 

Because the sounds themselves made her feel nauseous. The gargles and slashing sounds of blades, the grunts and the screams, the horse’s neigh, the rattles of the metal clashing. Her breath got caught in her throat in a hiccup, and she started panting in weak inhales. She brought a hand to her mouth to muffle her breathing. The girl looked back at her and cupped her cheek with a hand.

 

“Don’t panic.” She ordered, her whisper calm and composed “I know this is scary, but we’re going to be okay. Just trust me.”

 

Lissandra nodded and tried to take deep breaths and ground herself. She had a well-trained knight with her. Even outnumbered, he would be able to defend himself just fine… Right? She caught the girl’s hand that was still on her face and tried to find some emotional support in her warmth.

 

She didn’t know how much time it lasted, but gradually the fighting sounds faltered as the fighters were taken down one by one. Orders were shouted to find the noble girl.

They were looking for her.

 

The Plegian girl had moved further from the trunk, crouching on the branch Lissandra was sitting on, and tried to have a peek at the river. Someone walked closer, and both girls froze on spot. She held her breath and buried her nails in the palms of her hands to stop trembling. A tear rolled down her cheek when she realised that the man who was now approaching their hideout was _not_ her escort. It was one of the bandits. She felt her chest squeeze and her bladder contract painfully. The man was now right under them. Just a mere meter under them. From the corner of the eye, she noticed him bend down. He checked the recess. She clenched her teeth to hold back her gasp. Then, slowly, the bandit rose back up and stood under the branch the Plegian girl was crouching on, right beneath her. Slowly, she pulled out a knife from her coat, the blade shining between her small fingers. Their gazes met.

 

“Close your eyes.” She mouthed.

 

The last thing Lissandra saw was her letting herself fall. She heard the man gargle, the sound however muffled, and the girl’s grunts as she struggled against him.

And then, nothing but a heavy thud on the rocks. A sigh of relief, and then the shuffling of fabric.

 

“Hey!” She heard “Give me a hand.”

 

Lissandra opened her eyes and saw the girl holding a hand out to her. She leaned on the branch for support, and helped her climb back up in the tree. There was blood on her face, and she wiped it off with her sleeve and an annoyed grunt.

 

“Tha… Thank you.” Lissandra whispered.

The girl smiled at her while tying the man’s purse at her belt “No problem.” Her eyes fell on her hands, and she gasped “Oh my gods I’m so sorry! I just ruined your gloves!”

 

Lissandra’s gaze fell on her long white gloves, that were now stained with red. How could she be worried about ruining her gloves when she had just single-handedly taken down an adult man?

 

“It’s…okay.” She muttered incredulously.

“No really, I’m sorry. They looked great.”

“How did you…” She took a glance at the dead man under them, and the sight of the pool of blood under him had her avert her eyes in disgust “How did you do that…? He was twice your size and three times your weight!”

She tapped her temple with a proud grin “Outsmarting your enemies is the only way to survive when you’re not a fighter.”

 

\--

 

They waited for hours in that tree. It felt like hours, and it _was_ hours. The night was falling, and soon they wouldn’t be able to see anything. She could barely make out the other’s silhouette in the dark now.

 

“Do you think they’re gone?” Lissandra eventually whispered. Normally, she would have been hungry by now, but the events had shaken her up so much that the mere idea of food made her want to throw up.

“Well, it’s been a while…” The white-haired girl replied pensively.

 

She shifted on the branch and sat on it, before letting herself hang upside down to have a better view of their surroundings. Not that she would be able to see a lot anyway; she gathered momentum to climb back up on the branch, with the help of the young noble.

 

“Did you see something?”

“There’s someone lying down near the water. I can’t be sure, but I think it’s your retainer.”

“Is he…?”

“I don’t know.”

 

They stayed silent a few seconds.

 

“I’m going to check.” The girl eventually said.

“I wish I could help…” Lissandra said guiltily “But my staff was strapped to my horse’s saddle…” she gasped and patted her purse “Wait! I might have a vulnerary with me!”

 

She found the vial and held it out to her. It was the first potion she had made so far, as part of her training as a healer, so she wasn’t sure about its efficiency. But that would still be useful, right? The Plegian girl nodded, took the vial, and climbed down the tree in silence. She got out of her sight for a minute or two, which were probably the longest minutes of her life. At least by now her father had most likely started a search to find her.

 

For the first time in hours, she heard the girl’s voice clearly “You can come down, Milady.”

 

Lissandra allowed herself a long sigh of relief. Tears also blurred her vision, but she quickly wiped them with the clean parts of her gloves, then carefully let herself slide down the tree trunk. She quickly walked to the girl, who was kneeling by the man’s side. She recognised the knight who had been accompanying her all day long, with a large cut on his right arm – which was bent in a worrying way - and dried blood under his obviously broken nose.

 

“I gave him the vulnerary.” She said calmly “He’s alive. Barely, but alive.”

“Oh thanks Naga.” Lissandra said in an exhale, her knees on the verge of giving out under her own weight.

“And fortunately for us, his horse is still there.” She added, pointing at a dark shape in the darkness. “I think it might be hurt as well, but if we’re lucky enough it might still be able to walk.”

 

\--

 

Having crossed paths with that girl had been a miracle. As she had guessed, the horse had been wounded on its left front leg during the battle, two arrows stuck in its shoulder, hence preventing it from fleeing. It was, however, still able to walk, and the two girls managed to lift the unconscious man across the saddle. Lissandra cried silently on their way back to the nearest village, her fingers laced with the girl’s, who was holding the reins firmly with her other hand as they walked side by side.

 

As soon as they had seen the first lights, they had cried for help. After that, everything went with a blur. She was given food and seated near the fireplace in the chief’s house, and the man taken care of by the village’s healer in a bedroom.

When the girl had smiled and said she would take her leave, Lissandra had begged her to stay, at least until her father arrived. She had not needed to be told twice, and had sat down next to her near the fire, sharing her blanket for warmth and comfort. And unlike her, the Plegian girl gladly ate the warm meal she was given. Maybe she had not eaten in a while, now she thought about it.

 

“Thank you.” She whispered in a tired exhale as she rested her head against hers.

“You’re welcome, Milady.”

“Call me Lissandra.”

“You’re welcome, Lissandra.” She repeated.

 

With all the commotion, she had absolutely forgotten to ask her her name. She opened her mouth to rectify the mistake, but the hurried voices that came from the door cut her thinking process. The following second, her father barged in, a desperate expression on his face.

 

“Lissandra!”

She gasped and stood up “Father!”

 

In three strides, he had crossed the room and taken her in his arms, squeezing her tight against his chest. She didn’t try to stop her tears this time, and burst into sobs of relief, the emotional fallout finally wearing her down. She wanted to go home and forget about all of this, about the screams, about the blood, about the smell of death that lingered on her bloodstained clothes. The man rubbed a hand up and down her back, kissing the top of her head with reassuring whispers. She needed a few minutes to calm down, before she let him go to look at him. Her father, however, was now looking at the Plegian girl, who was standing and busy admiring the tip of her feet, her hands shyly tucked behind her back.

 

“I assume you are the girl who has helped my daughter?” He said.

She pinched her lips and scratched the back of her head “Yes, Milord.”

“Do you know that today, you have saved the life of the future queen of the halidom?”

That got her to look at him “Uh, I didn’t until now, Milord.”

 

Lissandra’s father let go of her and walked towards the girl. He was literally towering over her, but she did not back away from him. Then, he bent a knee and bowed his head down.

 

“I owe my daughter’s life to you, miss. Ask for anything, and you will receive it as reward for your bravery.”

“I…”

 

The girl’s eyes drifted to Lissandra, who smiled gently in return. She seemed to hesitate, and after a few seconds of obvious inner debate, she looked back at him.

 

“Please allow me to be your retainer.”

The man rose to his feet, not a single trace of hesitation in his words “That shall be done. You will from now on be at my daughter’s service. What is your name, young lady?”

 

The girl smiled brightly, the light of the fire shining in her brown eyes.

 

“My name is Morgana, Milord.”


	5. The Lover (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have baby Chrom's POV! I'm going to do an introductory chapter for everyone, then I'm going to go on with the story. I hope this is not messy so far!

“You have to flex your legs more, Milord.”

 

Chrom let the tip of his wooden sword rest on the ground as he tried to catch his breath. Sir Lund’s intransigence was a good thing, but now he had been doing the same exercise for almost two hours, his arms were starting to give out. He couldn’t wait to be done with this so he could go find Robin to play. Knowing her, she was probably somewhere with her mother, learning about magic or tactics.

 

“What’s wrong with my legs?” He asked with a tired pout.

The knight swept his foot with his, making him lose balance “Because I can do this. You will lack balance if you keep your legs outstretched, bending them will allow you to be more flexible.” He crossed his arms “But we’ll work more on this later. I shall dismiss you until tomorrow morning.”

 

Chrom stuck the tip of his sword in the ground to stretch his arms. He could already feel the soreness in his limbs from all the training. Did his father have to train this much when he was a child as well? His thoughts were cut by the familiar sound of a door closing, and he saw Frederick walking towards them, holding his little sister in his arms. She seemed to be very agitated, and kept twisting in the young man’s embrace to stretch her little arms out to him with a whine.

 

“She keeps on asking for you, Milord.” He said as he got closer.

“Cooom~!” Lissa cried.

“Well then” The little boy said with a smile as the squire put her down in front of him “What’s wrong, Lissa?”

“Play!” She said with a pout, pulling on his tunic for emphasis.

“Alright, alright!” He chuckled, then patted the top of her head “Give me a few minutes so I can put away my things, okay?”

“No! Play!!” The toddler insisted.

“Don’t worry, Milord, I’ll take care of this.” Frederick intervened with a smile.

 

The little prince nodded and thanked him, then knelt next to his sister and offered his back to her.

 

“Piggy back ride?”

 

Lissa gladly climbed on his back. She still weighed nothing, or maybe it was because he was slowly building strength, and despite his tiredness, carrying her was not that much of a hard task. He set off sidestepping, imitating the gait of a horse as he went in direction of the garden. The toddler was squeezing him tight, laughing loudly and making fake neighs, sometimes encouraging him to go faster. The little boy dashed between the bushes and trees, until he reached the fountain that marked the exact centre of the garden. He let his sister down on the edge and climbed on it. She followed him like a duckling as they walked in circles on the grey stone, and he always glanced at her from the corner of the eye to make sure she was fine. He wouldn’t want her to hurt herself, after all.

 

“Obin!”

 

Chrom instantly turned around, a happy gasp escaping his mouth. However, his friend was nowhere to be seen despite Lissa’s call. He gave her a lopsided grin and patted the top of her head fondly.

 

“Robin is not there, Lissa.”

“Obin!” She insisted.

He put his hands on his hips and leaned towards her, his smile growing larger “What are you doing? Calling her? Do you want to see her?”

“Avie!”

 

Lissa still had a hard time with people’s names, and kept on using shortened versions for the ones she actually managed to remember. The child called Aversa again, then moved to Emmeryn; Chrom then understood she was just randomly saying their names with a proud tone. The little boy burst into laughter and let her do, then resumed his walk around the fountain. When Lissa called him, he called her back, and soon enough the two of them were chanting names and giggling. This made no sense, but it was fun.

 

“Chrom!”

 

He froze on spot, his blood turning cold at the tone itself. Lissa bumped into him from behind. Their father was walking towards them, and he seemed to be really annoyed. The little boy instantly hopped down the edge, and helped his sister doing the same. That did not stop the Exalt, however, who crossed his arms and glared at him.

 

“What did I already tell you three times this week?!”

Chrom suddenly found the tip of his boots fascinating “To not climb on the edge of the fountain…”

“H-hello, Father.” Lissa ventured.

 

The boy could feel just from the tone of her voice that she was terrified, yet that she did her best to speak correctly. He dared a look at his father. The man did not even look back at her, ignoring her completely. That prompted him to react.

 

“Morgana says it’s fine to walk on the edge of the fountain, though.” He said with a voice that he wanted confident, but that unfortunately came out only as a mumble.

Given how his nostrils flared and how his frown heightened, he was in for big _big_ trouble “Morgana is no one to you. I’m the one who decides. Now come, I want to see the improvement in your swordplay.”

 

Chrom felt his insides twist in guilt and fear. He had practised a lot for the past week, but he was far from having improved in such a short time, and especially according to his father’s definition of “improvement”. And above all, he had barely finished training, he was sore all over, and had finally had some time to play with his little sister. Standing up to his father was absolutely not the safest idea, but for the sake of Lissa, he’d do it. He was certain his knees would chatter from the trembling, but he did his best to hold his gaze.

 

“I-I’m busy right now.” He said.

“You’re not.” The Exalt retorted coldly as he turned around “If you want to spend your time productively, you’d rather spend it with Emmeryn or Maribelle. People who are actually _significant_. Now don’t make me repeat myself twice, or I’m going to get angry.”

“Well, _thanks Naga_ , you are not angry.”

 

Chrom’s eyes drifted to Morgana, who walked past his father without a glance. She picked up Lissa, who had started sniffling and who was close to burst into sobs, and turned back to him. On the balcony overlooking the garden, on the first floor, the little boy saw Robin, leaning against the railing with a worried look. The Exalt let out an annoyed grunt, then took Chrom’s hand and started pulling him towards the courtyard.

 

When he managed to twist his neck enough to look back at them, he saw Morgana rocking Lissa gently and trying to calm down her tears.

 

He swore to himself he would never become like his father.

 

\--

 

Robin had this strange habit of falling asleep anywhere. In the library, on her books or on the tables, in her parents’ suite, either on the carpet or in one of the armchairs, and gods, don’t get him started on the garden. She could literally doze off on the edge of the fountain, on one of the benches; one day she had fallen asleep _in a tree_ and Morgana had let her do because apparently “sleeping in trees was actually super comfortable”. The only thing he had been worried about that day was that she might fall and get hurt. Fortunately, she hadn’t so far.

 

So seeing her sleeping in the grass with an open book on her belly? This was rather usual. Shadows were moving randomly across her relaxed face thanks to the light breeze in the trees’ foliage, and for once Chrom did not want to wake her up. He wanted to play, obviously, but he wouldn’t mind waiting a bit. She seemed so peaceful, it would be a crime to disturb her sleep.

So the little boy sat next to her and waited. He observed the garden patiently, listening to the lulling sound of the fountain’s water and the birds’ singing above them, until he decided that his friend was more interesting to watch. Her left hand had slipped from her book and was now resting on the ground. His eyes fell on the Mark on her right hand. Its six eyes didn’t look so menacing, compared to her father’s. It was also unique, since Validar’s had only four of them open. He then read the title of her book; it was about tactics, as usual. No wonder why she was so good at chess. She probably got her love for it from her mother.

 

Robin stirred and tilted her head in his direction, then let out a long sigh. He looked at her face, how her white – almost silver – bangs fell on her temples and nose, how her eyebrows twitched from time to time. She was cute. Aversa was, too. But specifically Robin. She was always enthusiastic about a lot of things, eager to learn, and eager to share with him too. Being only a year and a half younger than her helped too. She was the closest to him in age.

 

He grabbed a strand of her hair and gently twirled it between his fingers. After a few seconds of playing with it, he brushed it under her nose to tickle her. Robin frowned, scrunching up her nose in the process, and grunted in her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and her mouth twisted into a pout.

 

“Meanie.” She said with a flat tone.

“There are better place to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” He replied, his lips stretching in an amused grin.

 

She tried to bite him in play, but he withdrew his hand before she could reach him. She gathered momentum and sat up, the book slipping on her lap in the process, then stretched with a little yawn, definitely chasing the sleep off her body.

 

“Did you wait long?” She asked as she lowered her arms.

Chrom shrugged “Not that much.”

“Do you have time before your ballroom dancing class?”

“I do, yeah.”

She stood up and dusted her dress with a bright smile “Well, let’s go play then, before an adult catches us.”

 

Chrom smiled back at his best friend, and took the hand she offered him to stand up. He’d handle his father’s scolding and her father’s disapproving look countless times without hesitation, because a day without playing with Robin was definitely a bad day.

 


	6. The Unworthy (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote this in one go haha

“Linna! Give it back!!”

 

Validar ran after his sister, who was giggling and holding his book tight against her chest, her long white hair flowing behind her. Maybe if he caught it…

 

“You’ve spent the entire morning reading it! Come play with me, I’m bored!!” She chirped ahead of him.

 

She ran through the open corridor bordering the garden without looking back. Validar had a hard time keeping up with her, for his obvious lack of exercise started to show. Well, Linna liked spending her time in the garden, where she would statistically have less chances of bumping into anyone of importance. He, on the other hand, preferred the calmness of the library. He enjoyed learning, and whenever he was not sitting down for their classes – which bored his twin most of the time, despite the fact she was an excellent student – he almost always had a book in hand, whatever its subject might be.

 

He had not studied a lot about the Tied Bloodlines yet, but from what he understood, something was off with his sister. The Laws said that the bloodlines could not mix, and that the Fell line had to be passed down to one heir only. Which roughly translated to: a Fell can’t have any sibling of any sort. But he and Linna were different. He had the Mark on his right hand, like his mother, but hers was on her chest. She had two eyes open while he had four. So technically, chances were she would not be worthy of being Grima’s vessel, if they were to reappear.

 

Honestly, why did it have to be _him_? He hated having to spend his time in the castle. He could barely go out of the city alone without feeling sick, unless he had an Exalt with him. And as much as he appreciated Exalt Elynn – but gods did he feel scared whenever she had Falchion on her back -, the prospect of spending a day in the company of Martheleus utterly disgusted him. The less he crossed paths with him, the better off he was.

 

Linna disappeared at the corner of the corridor, pulling him out of his thoughts. He heard her yelp, and he hoped she had tripped over her feet so he had the time to catch up with her.

 

And indeed, she had fallen. However, given how Martheleus was glaring at her, towering over her with his chin held high and a look of profound repugnance on his face, it was certain she had bumped into him while running. Validar came to a stop behind his sister. The three of them did not move, Validar gauging the Exalt’s potential reaction, Linna petrified in fear, and _him_ , judging them from all of his fifteen years of age, immobile yet seeming to be so close to draw his sword. Thanks the gods he was not the one in possession of Falchion.

 

When Martheleus moved, both twins held their breath. He bent and curtly snatched the book from Linna’s hands, and threw it at Validar. The boy just had the time to clumsily catch it before it fell to the ground, crumpling some pages in the process as it partially opened mid-air. He opened his mouth, but no word came out. What could he even say? Thank him? Apologise?

 

The Exalt did not let him the time to decide, for he turned away and resumed walking as if nothing had happened. Once he was a few meters further and out of hearing range, Validar walked to his sister and held a hand out to her. She was pinching her lips, obviously fighting hard against the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. Every encounter she had with the Exalt was a disaster. And at least, for once, he had not said anything. Most of the time he always slipped some mean word before leaving, and no one ever went against him because he was an _Exalt_.

 

“Come on.” He said, waving his hand as if to encourage her to take it “Forget about him. Let me put my book away and I’ll play with you.”

 

Linna sniffled and wiped the corner of her eyes with her sleeve, then took his hand.

 

\--

 

Magic was fun. Funnier than having to hold a sword, at least. Validar didn’t like weapons. They were too sharp, too brutal, too… Exalted. Magic was more delicate, yet as equally as dangerous, but required a level of focus that put him at ease. A man with a sword didn’t think, but a man with a tome _observed_. Analysed. Fighters trusted their blades too much, relied on them and on their own brute strength. A tome-wielder admittedly had to rely on his spell, but at least they were interchangeable. Give an axe to a lancer and they would be completely useless in battle. But the difference between Thoron and Bolganone? One cast thunder and the other fire.

 

The only type of magic that was slightly harder to master was dark magic. From what he understood, Plegians had better aptitudes with dark magic that Ylisseans; it did not exactly make sense to him, but he had to admit it was true to some extent. Exalt Elynn knew how to use spells, even if she relied on Falchion more, but could not master a spell as simple as Nosferatu.

His mother, on the other hand, knew how to use it _without a tome_.

 

That impressed him and his sister a lot. He wished he would be able to achieve tomeless magic someday, but it was quite a rare feat, and only possible with low rank spells. He had never read about any mage being able to cast Thoron without a tome. His mother did not have any use of Nosferatu though, for the halidom had known peace for decades and was in good terms with its neighbours. She only used it on random plants when she felt queasy for example, refusing to touch a living being with that spell; she would make weed wither and sigh in relief as her body’s condition would improve.

 

The only times Validar would actually come out of the library were to practice his magic. He always made sure Martheleus would be done with his training, so he wouldn’t have to cross paths with him. Sometimes, he trained with his sister.

 

He didn’t like to admit it, but it seemed unfair to him how easily Linna could use dark magic. She had a natural inclination to it, for some reason. And the worst part is that she did not really like fighting. Well, she had no reason to, but on the other hand seeing so much talent squandered out of cowardice made his blood boil. He was fairly good at magic himself, but it felt like his sister had been born with tomes in her hands.

 

He read a lot about theory of magic. He liked to understand its mechanics, and looked for answers he could never find. How come Plegians only could use dark magic? Why did some people have innate abilities while others had to train continuously to get the same results?

 

Asking himself about magic led him to think about the nature of the Bloodlines. After all, the first Exalt and the first Fell had sworn to stay together, so it would be easier to seal Grima again with the Fire Emblem and Falchion when the time came. He was the only one whose Mark had four eyes open. He was different. Was it due to the fact he had a twin, and thus the power had been split up unevenly between him and his sister?

 

What was sure was that he felt like a prisoner, taken in Martheleus’ Exalted claws. It was easy for him, he was going to rule over Ylisse someday, like every single one of his ancestors. And him? He’d have to stay in the capital, or be forced to follow the prince’s caprices wherever they would lead him or else both would end up feeling like death would be a better alternative.

 

The Tied Bloodlines were a curse.

 

He wanted to be free. To travel around Ylisse. To see the country he was originally from.

 

With his hatred for the bloodlines grew a curiosity for Plegia. Its culture, its history, its language. Unfortunately, he was forbidden to study the Plegian language – _unlike Martheleus_ – for some reason. Given the disapproving look in his mother’s eyes when the council announced their refusal, there was most likely some political reason behind this. But Validar was a mere child. Politics were too complex for his understanding; he had to read more books on the matter first to make sure he understood.

 

Nobody wanted to teach him Plegian? Fine, he was going to teach himself.

 

Fortunately, the library had a few dictionaries that he could read discreetly, sheltered behind books about Ylissean geography, botany or etiquette to not raise any suspicions. Learning vocabulary would be a first step towards recovering this language that was rightfully his, and that Ylisse has stripped off him to make him its docile puppet.

 

And he absolutely refused to spend his life being the Exalts’ puppet.


	7. The Protector (1)

It was only when she found herself alone in that water room that she felt the weight of the events fall on her shoulders. She had been left in a sort of haze, one thing happening after the other so fast that she had barely had the time to process any of it.

 

When he had asked her what kind of reward she wanted, she absolutely had no idea of what to ask. All she wanted was a shelter, and maybe some money so she wouldn’t have to stoop to steal anymore. And then, her eyes had found Lissandra’s.

 

She had just wanted to protect her. She had seen her in town that afternoon, seen how nice and devoted she was to her people; she had heard about her family when she had reached their land a few weeks prior. When she had retreated to the forest and spotted the bandits planning their attack, the memory of her sweet smile had flashed before her eyes, as hard as a kick in the guts. It was unfair to her, she was so nice.

So she had done her best, and warned her beforehand. She knew that as a child, she had only her brain to get out of dangerous situations. Lissandra had had a knight with her. She really had not expected to be dragged in this fight.

 

And now she was staring, naked, at this large, empty pool in front of her, and things slowly started to make sense.

 

She had only wanted to help Lissandra. And then, when her father had offered the opportunity of most likely enough riches to not have to worry about eating once every other day anymore, she had bet everything she had – that meant her ability to get herself out of thorny situations – on it. She wanted to gravitate around her, to welcome the sunlight and joy she had to offer. The worst case scenario would have been his refusal.

 

Morgana let out a very long sigh and dipped her toes in the water. As expected, it was hot, maybe a bit too hot. But the prospect of scrubbing the dirt and sweat and blood out of her skin was too tempting to be picky about it. After all, she’d rather have boiling hot water rather than a cold bath in the river again. The maid who had showed her the way to the water room had told her that the hot water was natural, for the castle had been built on hot springs a few centuries before. Slowly, she climbed down the steps of the pool, letting the sizzling water envelop her body in a hot embrace, warming up her numb extremities. The heat felt like pins and needles on her feet and hands, but she ignored it; it was most likely because of the sudden change in temperature, nothing more. She took a deep breath and immersed herself entirely, letting the water soak her dirty hair for a couple of seconds, then came back to the surface.

 

All she had ever wanted was a shelter, a steady place she could return to. She just happened to reach that goal, only in the estate’s biggest mansion. No big deal.

 

_“Tell me, Morgana, how come I’ve never heard about a Plegian family settling on my land? We are quite on the opposite side of the frontier.” Lissandra’s father asked while gently rubbing his daughter’s hair, the young lady sleeping soundly with her head on his lap._

_“Because I have no family.” She replied, looking outside the carriage. Which was pointless, since it was pitch dark “It’s just me, wandering around. I arrived here a fortnight ago.”_

_He nodded, a small smile on his lips “I see.”_

 

No big deal, indeed. A life for a life, right? She had saved Lissandra from an abduction that would have certainly ended up badly, and in return she “saved” her life on a daily basis. Maybe that was not an even agreement, but since everyone seemed to be fine with it…

 

Morgana shook her head and got to work. Washing first, thinking later. She grabbed the soap and brush on the edge of the pool, and started her long, well deserved bath. She scrubbed her skin raw until it was red, the water temperature not helping that much with the matter. Her hair proved itself difficult to wash, for it was all tangled despite the fact it was not that long. She realised that she had been more injured than expected from her previous unfortunate encounters when she pulled on a scab without paying attention, causing her to hiss in pain.

 

“I hope it’s not infected…” She mumbled to herself, inspecting the wound on her forearm. It was hard to tell, with the lack of light. The torches in the room were more than enough to see, but without direct sunlight, it was more complicated to assess the damage.

 

After a long, thorough washing session – when was the last time she had taken the time to do so? – she crossed her arms on the edge of the pool and rested her chin on them with a tired sigh. Now she had got used to the water temperature, it felt like she was wrapped in a blanket. She could totally fall asleep right there. A faint knock on the door caught her attention, however, and she lazily opened an eye as the maid who had escorted her walked in.

 

“I hope you find the water to your taste, Miss.” She said.

Morgana smiled “I do.”

“I advise you to not stay in for too long, though. You might faint.” She added, opening her arm on which she could see a white tunic and pants “I brought you clean clothes.”

 

Morgana nodded and reluctantly got out of the water. The sudden lack of warmth made her shiver, and she sought shelter under the towel the maid handed her. The woman then dried her hair with a second one, and the young girl let her do. It felt nice, to be taken care of.

 

She was in the middle of getting dressed when the woman picked up her old clothes and started walking out.

 

“Wait!” Morgana called her back “What are you going to do with them?”

“Well, given their shredded and dirty state, I was going to dispose of them. We’ll provide you with new clothes.”

She walked closer, almost falling in the process when she tripped over her untied pants “Wait wait wait! No! I mean…!” She joined her and pulled her coat out of the pile of clothes “You can get rid of everything, but no my coat, please!”

The woman blinked in surprise “But it’s almost a rag, at this rate! And way too big for you, this coat is obviously made to be worn by an adult.”

“It’s the only thing I have left from my mother!” She begged, holding the clothing close to her chest.

 

At that, the woman’s expression changed. It became softer, a tender smile stretching her lips.

 

“I understand, then. But will you please at least let me wash and mend it? I promise to return it to you shortly.”

 

Morgana’s eyes fell on the garment. There was blood on the sleeves, partially covering the purple eyes adorning it. The idea of having to spend time without it did not please her in the slightest; how would she hide without that big, protective hood? It would certainly lose her mother’s smell, already mostly concealed by her own and the iron scent of blood and dirt. It was heavy on her shoulders, the fabric made to shield its wearer from the burning sun of the desert but also to keep them warm from its cold nights. She liked that weight on her, it felt like someone was protecting her. It was not as efficient as an armour, obviously, but without it, she felt vulnerable.

But… she was safe now, wasn’t she?

 

“Can you leave it as it is?” She asked “I mean, please don’t shorten it so it fits me. I want to keep it big. Also I want to keep on wearing it when I grow up.”

The woman’s smile widened “As you wish.”

 

Morgana handed her the coat, almost reluctantly, and the woman escorted her out of the room.

 

\--

 

She had never seen so much food in a single place. Morgana blinked, her gaze unable to focus on anything, her sight overwhelmed by the amount of fruits, cakes and beverages she saw on the table. She had almost gotten lost in her bed the previous night because the mattress was insanely big. She could have slept with at least two more people in it without even touching them in her sleep. It had felt like sleeping on a cloud. And now, there was enough to feed an entire army.

 

“I didn’t know what you liked for breakfast, so I thought I’d let you choose” Lissandra commented with a pout, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she played with one of her blond curls.

“Uh… Thanks.” Morgana mumbled in disbelief as she hesitantly walked to the other end of the rectangular table.

“Oh come on, come sit with me!” The teenager said, smiling brightly at her “Don’t go all the way there!”

 

Morgana instantly turned around and walked back to her. Lissandra chuckled at her eagerness, and gestured to the seat at her right for her to sit down. She had already served herself, a cup of tea accompanying the plate filled with berries of various sorts, and two toasts with butter and what seemed to be orange jam on it. If she had to be honest, she was feeling out of place.

 

“Is this the way all retainers are treated?” She asked, keeping her hands on her lap as she sat down.

“Not really.” The noble admitted as she poured her a cup of tea “It’s just that we’re getting everything sorted out for you today. Yesterday was a bit hectic, so we did the bare minimum.”

 

Thank the gods it was actually the _bare minimum_.

 

“Come on, don’t be shy, eat something.” She spurred her on “What do you like? We have fruits, pastries… Oh, maybe you’d prefer something salty? I can have something made for you.”

She waved her hands in panic “I’ll be fine, don’t worry!”

 

She grabbed the first fruit that came to her sight. An apple. Perfect. She started eating it, trying to avoid having juice running on her fingers. At least that stopped Lissandra wanting to spoil her first thing in the morning. The blond girl watched her do for a few seconds, then resumed her own breakfast.

 

“About yesterday… Thank you.” She said after a while “I don’t know where I would be today if it had not been for your help.”

“Oh.” Morgana wiped the juice from her mouth with her sleeve, and realised too late that it was probably not very polite “You’re welcome. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure if that “hide-in-the-trees” strategy would work, but it was the safest I came up with. I mean, I didn’t know how fast you could run or if you knew how to fight so…”

“It was a great idea, actually. You’d make a good tactician.”

She snorted “What tactician would advise their men to hide in trees?”

Lissandra chuckled while putting down her cup of tea “Well, at least it’s better than setting your entire float on fire on purpose!”

She burst into laughter “Who would even do that?”

 

\--

 

Lissandra insisted to give her a tour of the castle herself. Morgana insisted that she was fine. In the end, she gave up and let the young lady guide her through the corridors, listening to her anecdotes about this and that room, what kind of plants there were in the garden, and how fortunate they were for having natural hot springs directly in the castle. The corridors were wide and bright, the windows tall and large to let the light in as much as possible. Almost all the furniture was made of white or light varieties of wood, with flowers in every corner. Most of the people they crossed paths with where dressed either in white or yellow, the others still in light or pastel colors. Maybe it was not so bad that she wasn’t wearing her coat, in the end. She’d totally be a blot on the landscape with her grey and purple outfit.

 

Her liege – or soon to be? It was still blurry for her – took her hand and dragged her to a spiral staircase. They needed a few minutes to climb it, especially since Lissandra seemed to lack the stamina to do any kind of prolonged effort, but she claimed that the view from up there was worth it.

 

And it definitely was.

 

Morgana realised they had climbed the highest of the three towers of the castle, which overlooked the entire valley and the stretch of water at the horizon. She had not seen any of this the previous night, and it was only know that she realised that the edifice was built against a mountain. The wind was cold and blowing strongly, making her white hair whip her face so violently that she had to brush it off her eyes with both hands.

 

“What a big lake!” She said as she walked toward the parapet.

“It’s not a lake!” Lissandra giggled “It’s the sea!”

Morgana turned around, her eyes wide “The sea? Really? I’ve never seen it before!”

She seemed surprised “Really? But we’re in a peninsula! The sea is everywhere around us!”

She crossed her arms on the parapet and leaned on them “I’ve travelled a lot around Ylisse, you know. I’ve not been here for long.”

 

She heard the lady’s footsteps behind her, then felt her lean on the parapet next to her. She was looking at her curiously, an innocent sparkle in her eyes.

 

“Have you?”

She scratched her neck “Yeah, I’m kind of a wanderer so… I mean, it’s not always easy to be Plegian in Ylisse. Especially since my accent is rather strong.”

“I find it cute, though.”

Morgana chuckled “Well, thank you!”

 

A few birds took off from a nearby roof and flew in front of them. She held her hair on the sides of her face again to get a better view. The top of the tower was a windowless mirador, allowing them to look around freely. She spotted a mountain, almost at the end of the chain they were bordering, that seemed to be bigger than the others and, for some reason, greener compared to the surrounding ones.

 

“What’s that mountain?” She asked, pointing at it.

“It’s Mount Prism. Have you ever heard of it?”

Morgana shook her head “No.”

“Well, it’s where Naga’s sanctuary is. My family’s role is to protect it, and help out the Exalted family if Grima were to be resurrected again.”

 

_Grima_.

 

“Oh, really?” She said with a forced smile “That’s super interesting. There’s probably a lot to learn about Ylisse’s history, I suppose. I recall your father said you are betrothed to the Prince?”

Lissandra leaned on one of her hands “I am, indeed. Although I haven’t seen him in years.”

Morgana lifted herself up and sat cross legged on the parapet “Ah? How come?”

“I met him when I was four or five maybe? I haven’t seen him since, and I’ve never been to the capital before. It’s a bit as if we never met, actually.”

“How old are you now?”

“Thirteen. And you?”

“Ten… I think. Maybe eleven.”

Her eyebrows rose almost comically “Maybe?”

She shrugged “I don’t exactly know. I have more or less an idea of my birthday, though. Just not the year.”

“How come?”

Morgana traced the edges of the stones with the tip of her finger “I left Plegia when I was around four or five. The years before that are a bit of a blur. All I know is that I got to Ylisse at some point, because people were talking a language I didn’t understand. But I got the hang of it.”

“What about your family, then?”

“They’re dead.”

 

At that, Lissandra fell silent. She slipped her hand towards her, and covered hers gently. She was wearing a new pair of gloves. She really had delicate hands.

 

“I’m sorry.” She eventually said.

“It’s okay.” She replied “I don’t miss them. All I wanted was a home, and that’s what you just gave me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Don't hesitate to comment!


	8. The Chosen (2)

If she moved her rook… No, that wouldn’t work. The bishop maybe? Robin pouted pensively, tapping her lips with a finger and a long, meditative hum. Morgana was resting her chin in the palm of her hand on the other side of the table, smiling at her affectionately.

 

“Sorry, I’m slow.”

“It’s okay dear, take your time.” Her mother said with a gentle tone.

 

Robin crossed her arms on the table and examined the chessboard closely, as if watching the intricate details carved in to the wooden pieces could actually help her figure out how to proceed. She didn’t often win against her mother, and she was fairly sure that she sometimes left openings on purpose. Morgana chuckled.

 

“I can literally see the steam coming out of your brain, sweetie.”

“It’s not funny” Robin pouted as she brought her hand above a piece, hesitated, grabbed it, released it, grabbed it again and moved it once and for all “There.”

Her mother nodded “Nice move.”

 

The door of the suite opened, and her father walked in. However, both mother and daughter were too absorbed in their game to really pay attention to him. He walked to them, gently ran a hand on Morgana’s nape to catch her attention, gave her a peck on the lips when she looked at him, then walked to Robin’s side and kissed the top of her head. He leaned against the backrest of her chair and observed the game with a small smile.

 

“Who’s winning?” He asked.

“Mom, obviously.” Robin replied.

Morgana giggled “It’s not obvious, sweetie, you’re getting better at chess.”

“You’re just letting me win.”

“That would be underestimating your mother, dear. She certainly does not make it easier for you.”

The child sighed “Have you ever won against her?”

Validar giggled “With time, I learnt to! But I admit that she won the first time we played together.”

“Won?” Morgana intervened, her eyebrows lifted in disbelief and amusement “I didn’t win, I _crushed_ you.”

“Did you?”

Validar leaned closer and tickled Robin’s neck, causing the child to squeal and laugh “She pulled a nasty trick on me. She won in what… less than ten moves?”

“Seven, to be exact.” His wife clarified with a proud nod.

Robin grabbed her father’s hand to make him stop “I want to be able to do that someday!!”

Morgana winked at her “I’ll teach you someday.” She moved her queen forward “Checkmate.”

 

Robin groaned and sought refuge in her father’s arms, whose laughter echoed gently against her.

 

\--

 

She could feel it. The agitation. The clinking of armours. The whispers in the corridors.

 

Something big was coming. And she couldn’t grasp the entirety of it. It was like a silhouette in the distance, that she could not totally identify, an unknown noise in the forest that was impossible to attribute to any known creature.

 

Her mother now walked around with a perpetual frown on her face, all traces of mirth gone from her eyes and replaced by wariness. She seemed to be always on her guard. Her father locked himself in his office and rarely came out of it. And whenever he did, he looked like he would get mad at anything, so she avoided bothering him. Martheleus was even stricter than the usual, his words sharper; she did not really like him usually, but now whenever she saw him, she could feel anger boiling in her throat. Sometimes, she felt prickles in her right hand at the sight of him, quickly replaced by an irrational fear whenever he drew Falchion. That sword always triggered all the red flags in her. She knew it was just her blood, like an allergic reaction to it. That sword was meant to kill her someday, maybe.

 

She hated him, because whenever Emmeryn and Chrom crossed paths with him, they would always end up crying. Emmeryn managed to quickly wipe the tears off and keep composure, but Chrom never could. He was awfully harsh with them. “To make them stronger”, according to Emmeryn’s tired whispers. To make them tough and unwavering. To make them good Exalts. And preaching the love of Ylisse certainly wasn’t enough to sugarcoat his rude behaviour.

 

Linna and Aversa stopped coming to the castle. They stayed in their house in the capital, the tension rising in the palace leaving little to no place for them to be at peace. For their own well-being, they decided to not show up unless the Exalt was not there. Which was hardly ever the case. Sometimes Emmeryn snuck out to pay them a visit. Her father once caught her. Her cheekbone remained purple for a few days afterwards, until Frederick insisted on applying that green smelly ointment on her skin.

 

Chrom and Emmeryn now spent their days in the courtyard, under Sir Lund’s supervision. He, himself, did not seem to agree with the Exalt’s decision to have them focus as much as possible on their swordplay, for if the eldest had just turned twelve and could somewhat keep going for a while, her little brother was barely six. He was a child. Whenever he was done with his training – often after the night had fallen – he would come to Robin’s quarters. At first to play, it was really his intent, but given how quick he fell asleep in the middle of their games, she offered instead to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and read him a book. She ignored her father’s grunts of displeasure, and silently thanked her mom whenever she nudged him in the ribs to make him stop.

 

That didn’t mean that she spent her days waiting for him. Her mother trained her too, in her own way. Along with chess, she introduced her to sho’gi, a Chon’sinese equivalent. She taught her tactics and strategies. Unlike her friends, she liked what she was being taught, so she didn’t mind that much having less playtime. Plus she still spent time in the library. But Morgana also insisted on her physical training as well. Instead of entrusting her training to Sir Lund, she took care of the matter herself. She was not really skilled with a rapier, but she considered herself a decent fighter for her young age. She was better at magic. Her father took care of the matter. He didn’t do it often, so most of the time she went to her aunt’s house downtown to perfect her skills. She also brought Aversa letters from Emmeryn, since her father had forbidden her to leave the castle and made sure someone was always watching her since that sneaking out incident.

 

Robin became more observant. She easily spotted the Pegasus Knights standing guard on the rooftops, could more or less determine their fighting range, and even see the holes in their formations. There was a growing restlessness among the townspeople, whispers and hearsays, worried glances.

 

She could not ignore the suspicious, afraid, sometimes downright hateful looks on her and her parents whenever they walked down the streets of Ylisstol. Fortunately, her mother’s rapier - bedecked with jewels among intricate interlacing - was enough to dissuade people from trying to pick a fight with them. Was there some growing hate for the Fell bloodline?

 

“What’s happening, mom?” She once asked in the middle of their teaching session. The library was empty around them, so she allowed herself to speak with a normal voice.

Morgana looked at her, her expression neutral “What is, Robin?”

“Now.” She gestured around her with a move of the arm “This. The training. Everyone seems to be on edge all the time, I can barely see any of my friends nowadays, Aunt Linna refuses to come to the castle and Emmeryn spends her time following Martheleus everywhere when she’s not busy training with Sir Lund in the courtyard. It’s as if we’re getting ready for something, and I can’t pinpoint what and it’s really starting to get on my nerves.” She inhaled deeply “Sorry, I just… got carried away.”

 

Her mother observed her in silence. She studied her face closely, as if she had not seen her in a very long time. Eventually, her gaze fell and sadness darkened her features.

 

“War is coming.” She eventually said.

Robin barely held back her gasp “War?”

Morgana nodded “Yes. There have been growing tensions between Ylisse and Plegia…” She pinched the bridge of her nose “Martheleus… I think that something broke inside of him after Lissandra’s passing…”

Robin crossed her arms on the table and tilted her head to the side “Wait, so Martheleus was actually a nice person before?”

Morgana huffed, a sad smile stretching her lips “Nice would be an overstatement. But he was a fair person… He’s taking his anger and frustration out on Plegia.”

“But that’s not fair!”

Morgana gave a forced laugh “He’s never been really fair to Plegians.”

Robin pinched her lips “But I thought… he appreciated you?”

Her mother shook her head “He _tolerates_ me. Because of Lissandra, but also because he can’t deny I’m useful to him…” She frowned, guilt all over her face as she whispered “And soon will be a traitress to my own birthplace.”

Robin slid her hand towards her and took hers “We’re going to be okay, mom.”

She pulled her closer and gave her a tight hug, her breath hitching “I hope we’ll be, sweetheart.”

 

 

\--

 

Summer was almost there, and with it, its warm evenings. Robin and Chrom started going to the garden during their precious counted minutes instead of staying in Robin’s suite. The air was dry and warm, and lights from the open corridor were spreading far enough for them to see. Chrom never had the energy to play, and it was a bit too dark to do so, so they often sat on the edge of the fountain to talk.

 

One night, Robin lied down in the lush grass, the blades tickling her neck and hands. Chrom did the same, but on the opposite side so his head would be next to hers. She listened to his slow breaths, wondering if he was going to fall asleep and how she was going to wake him up. Maybe mosquitoes would make sure that neither of them would actually slumber. His circlet fell on the grass, and he lazily grabbed it with a hand to rest it on his stomach. Insects buzzed and creaked around them. Was it going to be their last summer of peace? Her mother’s words came back to her. There was going to be a war soon. What would happen? Would Chrom and Emmeryn have to go to the battlefield? What about her parents? If Martheleus had to leave, that meant that her father would have to go as well. Or her, who knew. He could be unpredictable in this kind of situation, since Chrom’s mother was not there anymore to hold him back from taking bad decisions.

 

“O sleeper.” Chrom half-whispered next to her.

Robin huffed “I’m not sleeping.”

“My bad, I forgot that you prefer taking naps in broad daylight.” She couldn’t see him but she easily imagined the crooked grin on his lips, with his front teeth missing.

“Says the boy who falls asleep before I even finish reading a single page.”

He laughed “Fair enough!” He pointed at the sky “Say, can you see constellations? I don’t know any.”

 

Robin observed the sky more attentively. The night was clear and the moon only at its first quarter, making stars easier to spot and watch. She didn’t know much about constellations herself, only one or two that she had seen in books and that she had managed to see a few times. Eventually, she grabbed Chrom’s arm and inclined it towards her.

 

“There, can you see the dipper shape over there?”

Chrom tilted his head back and frowned “Uh… No.”

Robin sat up and dusted her cape “Sit up, it’ll be easier.”

 

Chrom did so, put his circlet back on, and turned around to face the same direction as hers. Robin leaned on her arm, her shoulder bumping against his in the process, and pointed at the skies again. He leaned closer, so his line of sight would somewhat match hers.

 

“There. You have the first star just above the tree over there. And then if you follow…” She slowly moved her arm to trace the shape “You have the dipper there. That’s Ursa Major.”

Chrom squinted his eyes and let out a long hum, until he gasped “Ah! I can see it! Why is it supposed to look like a bear, though? I can only see a dipper. A pan at most.”

Robin shrugged “I have no idea. Probably some historical or mythological reason.”

“Maybe back then people didn’t use dippers and pans and so they found something else to name it after?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

 

Some rattle in the open corridor caught their attention, and both children turned to see the cause of the ruckus.

 

“Over there! He ran this way!!”

 

They saw a small silhouette dash through the corridor, then bolt in the garden’s rich and dense bushes. A couple of seconds later, they spotted a maid followed by two paladins, who however kept going straight on until they disappeared inside the castle again. Chrom rose to his feet, and when Robin did so and started to walk, he lifted an arm to stop her. She held back a snort. She was taller and older than him, and he wanted to play hero? How cute.

 

Silence fell in the garden, only interrupted by the fountain’s waters flowing and the bugs singing. Chrom walked closer, Robin following him as discreetly as possible. Both children held their breath, nervousness growing inside of them. She gasped ever so faintly when the bushes started moving, but Chrom was quicker to react. He pounced in with a cry, disappearing behind the leaves before she could even do something.

 

“Chrom!” She yelped in fear.

 

There was some grunting and struggling, and she watched the plants move with wide eyes, not knowing if she had to intervene or not. Then, she heard a cry of pain, and Chrom fell out of the bushes, pining down a boy of around their age on the grass, his bright orange hair spilling between the blades in messy strands.

 

“Ouch ouch OUCH okay _fine_ , you win!! Let me go!!” He grunted, wriggling to get out of Chrom’s armlock and slapping the ground repeatedly with his free hand to admit defeat.

 

The prince released him just enough so it would stop hurting, but did not let him go. The boy sighed in relief and relaxed, resting his right cheek against the ground with his eyes closed.

 

“Who are you?” Robin asked.

 

He didn’t look like an ostler or a squire, and was certainly not from the castle. His clothes were too worn out and too dark to actually match the castle staff’s usual outfits. He opened his eyes and twisted his neck in an obvious uncomfortable position to answer her. They were green, but not like Emmeryn’s. They were darker and more vivid, although she couldn’t be sure since it was night time.

 

“The name’s Gaius, miss.” He replied, a cocky smile on his lips despite the fact he did _not_ have the upper hand in any way at this very moment.

“Why were they after you?” Chrom added.

“Listen, I’ll gladly answer you but can you _please_ let me go first? You’re crushing me.”

 

Chrom hesitated, gauging if he was actually going to keep his word or try to bolt away as soon as he’d release him. Gaius rolled his eyes and swore he would not try to do anything fishy.

 

“Let him go.” Robin eventually said “We’re two against one, and with training in fighting anyway.”

“Are you trying to flex or something?” Gaius snorted.

“No. I’m just stating the facts.”

 

Chrom let go of him and stood up, while Gaius sat up and rubbed his arm with a wince.

 

“Urgh, how come a kid like you can be so strong?” He grunted.

“Because I train everyday.” Chrom replied, putting his hands on his hips, opening his shoulders so he would look more imposing “And you’re probably barely older than me.”

“So?” Robin inquired “What brings you here at night?”

“Hunger.”

 

Robin and her friend exchanged a curious look, while Gaius let out a sour laugh. Hunger? What did he mean? And why was he laughing?

 

“You probably don’t get the fact that some of us don’t have the luxury of eating everyday.”

 

The boy pulled a couple of pastries out of his coat and lifted them up for them to have a look. He explained that he often stole food during the market, but since he had heard about the castle’s delicacies, he had been dying to try some. Proof was, as soon as he finished speaking, his stomach growled loudly. The two friends exchanged looks again.

 

“So they were after you because you stole food?” Chrom eventually asked.

Gaius took a bite of one of the pastries, paused a second, his eyes widening and shining, before he resumed eating as if it was the best meal of his life – which was most likely the case “Yup. I though’ tha’ the kitch’n was’h emptchy. Turnj out it was’hn’t.”

“What do we do, Robin?”

The little girl crossed her arms on her chest pensively “Well, he’s technically a thief. But he’s hungry, it’s not like he had a choice. And I wouldn’t even wish my enemies to experience the wrath and intransigeance of your father.”

Gaius swallowed and turned pale “Wait… You’re Exalts?”

Chrom lifted his right sleeve, showing his Brand “I am.”

Robin took off her right glove and showed the back of her hand “I’m a Fell.”

At that, the boy frowned “Never heard of that before.”

She hid her hand under the brown leather again “It’s not very important, anyway.”

 

Chrom opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a glare. She was not going to tell the entire halidom that she could potentially be its downfall someday, she’d rather not be hated that quickly. The young thief shoved the second pastry in his mouth before they would try to take it away from him, which none of them had planned to do anyway.

 

“We’re going to show you the exit.” Chrom finally said “We won’t tell anything.”

“That’s super nice of you, thanks.” He stood up and dusted his clothes “But I’d rather leave just as I’ve come, and that means not through the front door.”

Robin frowned “Where…?”

 

Gaius invited them to follow with a move of the hand. They crossed the garden, until the young boy crawled under a bush near one of the outer walls. Robin knew the garden by heart; however, she had never even thought about getting close to the walls before. Despite Chrom’s reluctance, she gladly followed the young thief, her curiosity getting the upper hand over any sense of wariness. And it was, in the end, worth it. As soon as she got out of the bush, she was greeted with a gentle slope, that went down for a meter or two, and ended at the foot of the wall. Probably to serve as some kind of evacuation system for waters, she didn’t know. For some reason, it sparked her interest. She’d check the library for old plans of the castle the following day. Chrom, who did not notice the slope at first, rolled down and ended flat on his stomach with a grunt. Robin chuckled and helped him back up. Gaius led the way again, until they spotted a hole in the wall, just large enough to let a child through. A teenager maybe, but certainly not an adult. He slipped into it, and Robin followed him.

 

Gods, the _sight_.

 

Getting out of the garden walls meant getting out of the castle as well. She stood up, the warm lights of the capital spreading in front of her. She saw the outline of the mountains in the night, and the distant gleam of a river nearby. Some Pegasus knights could be seen flying here and there, standing patrol to make sure that the townspeople’s dreams would be undisturbed. From there, she could see the stars way better than in the garden. They were on a sort of small platform, that stretched to around two meters from the wall – just enough for the three of them to stand – but from there, there seemed to be not path to escape. They were on top of a rocky cliff, and right under them was the cobble path that led to the castle’s main entrance. If they were to fall, they would certainly not make it out alive.

 

“Uh… It’s a dead end.” Chrom pointed out.

“That’s your way of seeing things, Blue.” Gaius replied with a shrug. Chrom opened his mouth to comment on the nickname, but he cut him off “This place is hidden from the main road, so I just have to climb here and sneak in the garden.”

Robin brought a hand to her chin, mumbling to herself “Interesting… That might be useful someday.”

Gaius turned around and put his hands on his hips, and winked at them “Anyway, time for me to disappear before someone catches me.”

 

He made a mock curtsy and started climbing down the rocks. Both children got on their hands and knees to observe him, slightly worried that he might slip and fall. However, in less than two minutes, the young boy had reached the ground. He waved at them, then ran in direction of the city.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Gaius here! I'm done with finals so hopefully I will get some time to work on my fics!!  
> Don't hesitate to comment!


	9. The Saint (1)

Her footsteps were light against the stone of the corridor, her blond curls bumping rhythmically against her shoulders as she skittered towards her parents’ suite. She politely knocked on the door, and waited for her mother’s gentle voice to invite her in. As soon as she opened the door, Lissandra’s face light up, a large smile stretching her lips.

 

“Ah, Emmeryn. Did you need anything?”

“I…” The child said, tilting her head to the side, then the other, a playful smile on her lips “I brought you a present.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, dear. Come on, show me.”

 

Emmeryn closed the door and walked to the sofa, on which her mother was sitting, a hand rubbing up and down her big belly in an absent-minded way. She sat next to her, and held out the three flowers she had picked up in the garden. Lissandra gasped and took them.

 

“Oh! They’re really beautiful. Did you find them in the garden?”

Emmeryn nodded “Frederick helped me pick them up.”

Lissandra combed a hand in her hair, and the little girl leaned into the gentle touch “Really? I thought he would have advised you to not touch the flowers.”

“He said it’s fine since it’s for you.” She replied, closing her eyes “But he allowed three flowers only.”

“Which is way more than enough.”

 

Emmeryn snuggled closer, and Lissandra wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the other resting on her stomach with the flowers weaving between her fingers. They stayed silent for a while, the only thing troubling the calmness of their embrace being the occasional bump inside her mother’s body. Eventually, Emmeryn giggled and put her hand on the place she had just seen move and rubbed it.

 

“There there, you get a hug too.”

“I think that your sibling will be very cuddly.” Lissandra commented while caressing her daughter’s cheek fondly.

“I hope they will.”

“What do you think? Would you prefer a little brother or a little sister?”

 

Emmeryn sat up to look at her mother, then at her belly. She had never thought about it. She was getting a sibling, wasn’t that the most important?

 

She shook her head “I don’t care. I simply wish to get along with them.”

 

\--

 

Her brother was born on a warm May night. It was only when she woke up the following morning that she was told that her mother had given birth to a little boy while she was asleep. She was brought to her parent’s quarters, and let in with the instructions of being very careful around the baby.

 

Her mother was lying down on the bed, her beautiful blond locks sprawling around her elegantly on the white fluffy pillow. She looked tired, but she was smiling happily. Her father was holding her hand, sitting on one edge of the bed, and sometimes brushed his thumb on the back of her hand in a soothing way. He was smiling too – a rather rare sight – and looked at her as if she was the most beautiful human being he had ever laid eyes upon. When Emmeryn entered in the room, knocking on the open door to announce her arrival, her parents’ attention drifted to her.

 

“Good morning, Emmeryn.” Her father said.

“Good morning, Father.” The little girl replied with a nod.

“Have you slept well, dear?” Her mother asked, trying to sit up. Martheleus put an arm behind her to help her.

She nodded again “I have. I heard that you gave birth during the night, so I wanted to make sure you were fine.”

Lissandra invited her in with a move of the hand “Come here.”

 

Emmeryn walked in, and sat on the edge of the bed, next to her father. He sat up and walked to the cradle next to the bed. He picked up the baby with an extreme cautiousness, then sat back down. Lissandra snuggled closer and nestled against his arm.

 

“Emmeryn, here is your little brother, Chrom.” Her father announced.

 

The little girl leaned closer to observe the newborn all wrapped up in white clothing, on which she spotted the Brand of the Exalt embroidered in blue. The baby’s eyes were still closed, his hair being nothing but blue tufts; it was so thin that she could see his scalp beneath it.

 

“He’s so tiny.” Emmeryn commented, before looking up at her parents “Was I tiny like this, when I was born?”

“You were.” Her mother replied with a smile, and took her hand “Wait until you see his hands.”

 

She let her guide her hand to the baby, while her father pulled out one of Chrom’s hands from the warmth of the clothing. Indeed, it was very very tiny.

 

“Here, give me your little finger.” Lissandra said, closing Emmeryn’s fingers except for her pinkie. She put it in the baby’s palm, and he instinctively squeezed it.

“Oh!” The little girl gasped in amusement “He’s holding it very tight!!”

Martheleus rested his big, warm hand on the top of her head “Will you be a good big sister, Emmeryn?”

She nodded enthusiastically “I will, Father.”

 

Chrom’s eyes fluttered open, and his gaze instantly set on her. They were blue like her father’s. Emmeryn smiled brightly and leaned closer.

 

“Hello Chrom. I’m your sister, Emmeryn. Welcome to our family.”

 

\--

 

Robin, Morgana’s daughter, seemed to have taken a liking to Chrom immediately. She would totter around the room and bring him toys or plushies, much to their mothers’ amusement. He was obviously too young to return the favour, but that didn’t discourage her in the slightest.

 

As much as her father didn’t like it, he couldn’t really disapprove of it. She couldn’t help but feel a bit envious; she wished he was more lenient about her friendship with Aversa. They were close in age and had similar interests. She also liked the whiteness of her hair, which was identical to her mother’s, but of different tone compared to Robin and Morgana’s. Where her cousin’s had silver reflections, Aversa’s were warmer, almost pinkish.

Her friend was very pretty.

 

But the prettiest person she had ever seen was not part of the living anymore. Truth to be told, she had never met her, for she had passed away years before her birth.

 

Emmeryn, when not busy with her studies or spending time with her friend, could often be found in the portraits room of the castle. She liked to watch the paintings, getting familiar with the faces of her ancestors. She liked to find similarities between members of the family, like the first Exalt’s blue hair for example. Hers wasn’t, but she didn’t mind that much. She liked being the spitting image of her beloved mother.

 

Above all, she liked to sit in front of her grandmother’s paintings. Out of all her relatives, she was hands down the most beautiful of them. There was one painting that always caught her attention; a beaming Exalt Elynn, sitting on a sofa next to Lady Fansyth, Aversa’s grandmother. They were holding hands, and their expressions and the way they leaned towards each other showed how close they were, how deep their friendship was. Behind them was Lady Fansyth’s husband, standing and smiling with Lady Linna in his arms, who seemed to be around five years of age. Lord Validar and her own father were sitting on each side of the sofa, next to their respective mothers, and looked particularly annoyed, if the expressions caught by the painter could be of any indication. Her father, in particular, looked even disgusted by the situation. Which, knowing him, wouldn’t be a surprise. He didn’t get along at all with Lord Validar and his sister.

She liked that painting, because it gave her hope. After all, the Laws said the Fell bloodline could be passed down to one child only, and yet both twins were in the picture. Even though she was in the background and not by her brother’s side, Lady Linna was _there_.

 

Although her father disagreed with her, Emmeryn couldn’t help but think that Exalt Elynn’s decision to spare the twins had been exemplary. It had been a tough one, but she had decided to give both children their chance at life.

 

After all, wasn’t the act of killing a child because of their blood the most cruel of crimes?

 

“Ah, here you are, Milady.”

 

Emmeryn looked up and recognised the blue plates of Frederick’s paladin armour. It wasn’t as elaborated as his father’s, who was a Great Knight, but there was no doubt he would soon have one just as impressive as his. It was just a matter of years, since he was just a teenager. Emmeryn smiled.

 

“Good morning, Frederick. Were you looking for me?”

The young man nodded “I was, indeed. Your father wishes to see you.” He offered his hand “I advise you to not sit on the ground, Milady. You might catch a cold.”

The child took it, stood up, and dusted her dress “I’m sorry. I was so caught in the painting that I preferred to sit down, my back started hurting from standing up too long.”

Frederick nodded “I will make sure to bring a chair next time you’d like to stay in the portraits room.”

“That is very nice of you, thank you very much.”

 

He escorted her out of the room, walking a step behind her in the corridor. The light of the sun came and went regularly on her golden hair, warming her face up as they walked by the arches that gave onto the garden to their right. Emmeryn laced her fingers behind her back and turned around, walking backwards so she could have a better look at her retainer.

 

“Say, Frederick” she asked “Have you ever met my grandmother?”

He shook his head “Exalt Elynn? I have not, unfortunately. My father, however, has served under her reign for many years.”

“What was she like?”

Frederick took longer strides to catch up with her, and put his hand on her shoulder to incite her to turn around and walk properly, which she did. He put his hands behind his back and kept on walking to her left “Well, according to my father, she was a merciful, fair and compassionate Exalt. She was loved throughout the entire halidom. Her passing brought great sorrow on the people of Ylisse.”

 

Emmeryn slowed down until she stopped, and looked pensively towards the garden. Countless scents surrounded her, for flowers were blooming everywhere. It truly was a beautiful day.

 

“Do you think I could be like her someday?”

Frederick stopped and smiled gently at her “I have no doubt about it, Milady. You are to this day the only member of the Exalted family who received Naga’s Light at a very young age.”

Emmeryn sighed “I wish I could remember it, I have heard it is a very unique feeling.”

He looked in direction of the garden “Well, think about it. If you hadn’t, Milady Aversa would not be part of this world today. By receiving Naga’s Light that day, you certainly saved her life.”

 

The young girl did not reply. Simply because she saw the pained look on his face. He had been around eight years old that day, and what he had seen had left its mark on him for the rest of his life. He had seen blood and tears and miracles.

 

Emmeryn walked to him and took his hand. It was big and warm in hers. He looked at her and she held his gaze.

 

“When I become the Exalt, I will do everything in my will so no one gets hurt or killed anymore. I swear it.” She said.

A small smile stretched his lips “And I vow to be by your side to help you achieving that goal, Milady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Emmeryn time! In this house we love Emm and think she deserves better. Don't forget to comment!!


	10. The Betrayed (2)

“Five, six, seven, eight! Come on, Milord, you’re off-rhythm! Please focus!”

Martheleus kept counting under his breath, finishing his steps half a second later than he should have. He pouted, annoyed at his own inability to dance properly. He cleared his throat, rearranged his leather belt, and adjusted his port de bras. The dance teacher gestured at the violinist so she could resume playing. The tune was light, but slow; the Ylissean waltz was distinguished and poised, the exact opposite of him. He had heard that Plegian dancing was livelier, but he refused to stoop to learning it. No, he liked Ylissean waltzing. Or more like, he liked watching other people waltzing. His mother had an ease to it, particularly. Whenever she waltzed, most of the couples made space for her and whichever partner she had for the dance, for she had a mesmerizing nicety in her step. Her earrings always caught the surrounding light and spread it in golden reflections, her flaring ballgowns moving like waves on the shore when she spun and twisted. His father himself was said to have won her over thanks to his innate gift in dancing. She was said to be the most difficult woman to lead, for her partners always found themselves struggling to keep up with her pace and her impeccable technique. The only person who had so far managed to achieve that feat was his father who, the very first time they had met, had led their dance with such ease they had mesmerized the whole audience. After that, she had refused to dance with anyone but him.

Although dancing was no battle, it still had a lot of tactical importance. What kind of Exalt would he be if he weren’t able to do something so mundane and primordial in terms of etiquette? He would be the laughing stock of the entire halidom and among the neighbouring rulers.

So the young prince took a deep breath and resumed waltzing.

\--

Something in these children’s laughter was deeply annoying. He’d hear Linna’s shrieking as she ran around the castle, Validar on her heels and trying to catch her during whatever game they were busy playing. Most of the time, she seemed to be playing pranks on him, or at least trying to drive him up the wall.  
Gods, were they noisy.

Lady Fansyth always watched them from afar. She had forbidden them to go play in the courtyard whenever Martheleus was training, because she didn’t want them to get hurt. It had almost happened once, when his arrow had unfortunately missed the target to lodge itself in the wall, next to Linna’s head. He had claimed it was an accident, and the incident had been closed.  
He had indeed missed his target, but not the one intended.

And Lady Fansyth was very aware of that. But she had no way to prove it.

\--

Thankfully, the twins tended to avoid him in general, which was for the best. Despite his mother’s attempts to convince him to change his mind about them and open up to them, he had never truly forgiven her for sparing their lives. Rules were meant to be respected. The fact she had willingly refused to dirty her hands for the sake of the halidom – the world, even – was still stuck in his throat. What if Grima came back and were able to control not only one, but two vessels? Considering that both of them were gifted at magic, it would quickly turn into a total disaster.

\--

One could feel upset at the idea of being betrothed to a perfect stranger. Martheleus, although more inclined to decide on his own terms when it came to his personal life, didn’t mind at all. Choosing between dozens of suitors who would come one after the other to swagger and flutter their eyelashes at him sounded more like a chore rather than an honour. Plus, to be perfectly honest with himself, he had quite a hard time understanding women. Blame it on his young age.

However, as much as he claimed he was not interested in knowing about whom he would get to marry someday, he could not help but give in to the emotional, untameable part of him once doors were closed and the castle empty; he was human - he could not fight against his nature - and sometimes caught himself fancying what Lady Lissandra looked like and what kind of person she was.

Martheleus had met her long before, when both of them were still children. It had happened during the year that had followed the twins’ birth. He was nine back then, and his betrothed much younger. As far as he could recall, she was almost three years younger than him. He remembered her being polite and well-mannered despite the fact she had been barely six, and already aware of Martheleus’ status as well as her own. He didn’t remember much more, except that she had blonde hair.

He often heard about her, however. From the mouth of other Lords and Ladies who praised her poise and kindness, which she had inherited from her late mother. He got wind of her gentleness, how well she treated her people in the name of her father, and how attentive she was towards her duties as the guardian of Mount Prism. Her family was, in a way, closely tied to his despite not being bound by blood. It was odd, somehow, that it had been kept that way for this long.

He wondered.  
He wondered if they would get along, if they would share a genuine fondness for each other despite the fact their relationship would be fabricated and not born from a genuine interest in each other. He wondered if Lady Lissandra was a nice as she was told to be. He wondered if she would be a fair and loving ruler to stand by his side. He wondered if he would be a good husband.

He dreamt.  
He dreamt about being the one saving her from bandits, rather than a rumoured commoner. He dreamt about how beautiful she would be, the support she would provide, the shoulder she would offer him to lean on. He dreamt about a loving home to welcome him after a hard day. He dreamt about the children they would have, if they would look like him or rather take after her - depending on his mood.

\--

“Five, six, seven, eight!”

Martheleus paused, his breath short and his feet steadily anchored on the room’s polished parquet. He inhaled deeply a few times but did not move and kept his position. He heard clapping behind him.

“You’ve improved a lot, Martheleus. I’m proud of your efforts.”

The prince turned around as his mother walked closer, her long blue hair fluttering against her hips in rhythm with her calf-length flaring skirt. He bowed faintly, and she put a hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Thank you very much, Mother.”  
“Will you let me dance with you?”  
The young man blinked, and took a step back “I’m nowhere near your level when it comes to waltzing.”  
Exalt Elynn smiled and pulled him closer “You underestimate yourself, dear. Practising alone is one thing, but you need to lead someone from time to time; a partner won’t always obediently follow you, remember that.”

Something inside of him told him that these words were not only meant for dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but I wasn't really inspired to write more and it's been MONTHS since I last posted something... So I thought it was better to have a little chapter rather than no chapter at all.
> 
> Also forgive my mistakes it's not betaed and I haven't written in English for a while (hope there aren't too many French ways of speaking in this)


	11. The Blessed One (1)

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Lucina’s eyes lazily drifted towards the dripping wine bottle, laying on the floor at the guard’s feet, unfinished. He was sleeping soundly, his already loud breathing turning into light snoring at irregular intervals. At first, it had bothered her. But now, she couldn’t care less about it. As dangerous and desperate her situation was, at least it had taught her what were her princess’ habits and what had to be considered a priority compared to her little royal comfort.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Luci…”

The little girl looked at Owain, curled up on the cell’s only “bed” – a mere plank fixed to the wall with some straw and rags, her own cape used as a makeshift blanket – with Morgan and Nah. He looked on the verge of tears, his exhaustion heightening his sensibility. That bed was way too small for four children, and as the eldest and tallest, Lucina had given up her spot so the others could have a semblance of comfort. Her back and legs were cold and damp from leaning against the wall, but she had got used to it. Or more like, she had learnt to ignore it.

She smiled weakly at her cousin’s plea.

“What’s wrong, Owain?” She whispered to not wake the others.  
“I can’t sleep.” He replied. She could hear his frustration through the trembling of his voice “Because of that drop-drop sound.”  
The princess stretched her legs and opened her knees “Come here.”

The child stood up and tottered to her. Lucina opened her arms as far as the chains at her wrists allowed, and he slipped between them. She cradled the little boy against her chest, rocking him ever so faintly in hope to lull him back to sleep.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“I want Mother.” Owain sniffled against her tunic.

Lucina felt her throat tighten and she held him closer.

“They’re going to get us out of here, I promise.”


End file.
